


Light Reading

by storyskein



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: But just a little, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Voyeurism, bellamy is an epic fantasy nerd and it makes clarke hot, but ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyskein/pseuds/storyskein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Friday, and Clarke's had a bad day. She has one mission: find Bellamy and relieve some tension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeeyyyyy everyone! This is my first posted fic on AO3 so hello, hello. I thought I'd introduce myself with some fluffy smut. Enjoy. 
> 
> Thanks to @skikru and @danikboo for being great betas and nurturing my bellarke feelings until they were full on ride or die OTP.

Clarke shuffles in to the cantina after a long day spent bickering with her mother in the clinic, preceded by a tense meeting with Kane in the Chancellor’s office. But she wants to put all of that behind her now. Weekends might not mean much when every day matters, but the bar still takes on a special atmosphere on a Friday night. Music pumps out of the speakers salvaged from Mount Weather, and moonshine flows freely into tin camp cups.

Clarke stops by the bar and picks up one of the cups, downs it, then picks up another as she scans the crowd. Raven, Miller, Monty, and Harper are sitting at table to the back, and normally she wouldn’t hesitate to join them. But Bellamy’s not there, and Clarke really needs to work out some…frustration. 

Raven signals her with a hand, but Clarke shakes her head. _In a minute,_ she mouths to Raven. 

Clarke knows where Bellamy will be if he’s not in his room. Her cunt gives a sharp bolt of anticipation, because if he is where she thinks he is, what’s about to happen is going to be hot as fuck. 

(It would be in their room, too, but Clarke is in the mood for a little rebellion and adventure tonight.)

She drains the cup and slides it across the bar to Jasper, who ironically works the bar now that he doesn’t drink anymore. Then she sets off to the edges of the Hangar. 

The Hangar is immense, housing not only the cantina and cafe, but the Rover Garage, work stations, and storage for some of the art they had salvaged from Mount Weather. There were several tall shelves of books in the back of the storage area dubbed The Library. The Library was closed after dinner, and you had to have a key to get into the storage area after hours. As head of the guard, well…Bellamy had one. 

She’s right. 

The accordion gate is unlocked but barely open. He never wants people to know he’s there, unless it’s Clarke. She slips past, walking soundlessly through the shelves, to the nook she knows he’ll be in. 

Clarke stops at the corner and watches him for just a moment. He has a small solar lantern with him, and it’s enough light to illuminate the corner where he sits. It’s a goddamn beautiful sight to see the man who is worried all the time instead be relaxed, absorbed, unburdened. She doesn’t know what he’s reading—she’s guessing it’s the sequel to _Way of Kings_ , the book he finished last night, epic fantasy nerd that he is. There is a ghost of a smile is on his face, and his finger traces along the lines as he reads. 

Her chest gives a squeeze, and the sweetness fuels the heat between her legs, the desire pulling at her stomach. 

Clarke stays there for a few more minutes. The noise of the cantina clatters in the distance, and occasionally the rise and fall of footsteps and conversations as they come nearer and then recede. It’s chilly in this part of the Hangar, away from the cantina and workstation lights. Chilly, and dark, and quiet. 

She watches him read, black curls falling into his eyes, and suddenly her breasts feel heavy. She slides one hand up and strokes, squeezing just a little. 

Bellamy turns the page, the scratchy sound of paper rustling in the silence. There’s a map on the page he’s on, and that stupidly hot dork breaks out into a grin as he looks at it. 

Fuck, seeing Bellamy so happy sends a white hot bolt of desire straight to her cunt. 

But she doesn’t want to interrupt him. Not yet. 

Clarke slips the other hand into her pants. Her underwear is soaked. She traps her clit between two fingers and gives a slight squeeze, biting her lip to stifle her gasp.

Bellamy continues to read, and if he knows she’s there he gives no indication whatsoever. Clarke keeps the pressure on her clit, unrelenting, enjoying the pleasure-pain of giving into her voyeurism but denying herself anything else. The rest of it will be for Bellamy. 

Finally, he finishes the chapter. Before he can keep going, Clarke pulls her hand from her pants, and steps out from around the corner. 

Bellamy’s head snaps up, and he’s genuinely startled. “I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been there?”

Okay, so, she feels a little guilty. “For…awhile.”

But he knows her. Heat flashes in his eyes. “Doing what, Clarke?”

“Watching.”

He grins. “Watching and doing…what?”

A blush blooms on her face. She doesn’t answer. 

“Clarke.” His voice is low, wheedling. “Doing what?”

“Touching myself.”

Bellamy’s pants are pulled tight at his hips, and Clarke licks her lips at the sight of them straining at the zipper. She walks over to him, gently closes the book laying open on his lap, and puts it aside. She dims the lantern—not all the way dark, but with just enough light so they can see.

Then Clarke drops a knee on either side of his hips and settles her cunt directly over his dick. 

She keeps enough pressure for the friction to build, but enough space so she can stroke over him with ease. The hard ridge of his cock, exacerbated by his pants, her pants, and her wet underwear feels incredible. 

Bellamy places one hand on her hips to steady her. The other finds her breasts, stroking her flesh lightly. “What made you so worked up?”

“Work. But then seeing you…”

“Reading?” he smirks. “So hot.”

She presses her hips down at that, and he gasps. “Don’t mock me. You’re very sexy when you read. You’re doing something you love.”

Bellamy pulls her down to kiss him, hard, and suddenly this encounter changes from Friday-flirtation-sex to something else, and Clarke’s not sure what that is. 

All she knows is that her body just responds. Her nipples tighten, and even more heat and wetness slick her thighs. Their lips fight against each other, unyielding, flashes of lips and tongue and teeth spurring them on. 

Bellamy’s fingers are at the tops her pants and in less than a second the button is popped open and the zipper is down. He thrusts his fingers into her cleft and moans softly.

“Fuck, Clarke. How long where you playing with yourself before you let me know you were here?”

“Awhile,” she whispers into his mouth, absorbing both of their moans as he pushes a finger into her. 

She’s already so close that it only takes a few minutes of grinding against his hand while he kisses her everywhere—her lips, her neck, her breasts—before she comes in slow convulsions on his palm.

But now both of them want more. 

“We could get caught,” Bellamy breathes into her ear as she works at the buttons of his pants.

“I know.”

He grins. He loves it when she’s rebellious.

Finally his pants are undone, and she shoves them down. 

“Turn around, Clarke.”

Clarke turns around, braces herself as lightly as possible on the lower shelves. Bellamy runs the head of his dick up and down her slit, teasing her already throbbing flesh. She wiggles in protest, but that only makes him linger on her clit, tease her hole with the head of his dick, paint her wetness slowly up and down her rim. 

She wants to _whine_ , goddamnit. She’s noisy as fuck, and they both know it. She’s practically vibrating with the need to vocalize her frustration, her arousal. 

Just when Clarke thinks she can’t take it anymore, he grips her hips in his hands, and thrusts so hard into her stars fill her vision. A low whine, unlike anything she’s ever heard herself make, reverberates through small library. 

Bellamy goes still. They wait for a beat, then two. 

Nothing. 

He starts to thrust, controlling her movements with his hands, making it slow and torturous but also silent. Normally where there would be sound—her keening, their flesh—there’s nothing. Just the knowledge that they are silently fucking in the corner of the library in the Hangar while hundreds of people _don’t even know._

It’s not just having sex, it’s a secret. Their secret. 

Bellamy speeds up. Clarke tries to push back against him to meet him thrust for thrust, but he grips her hips to control her movement, making sure it’s still as quiet as possible. She shoves a hand against her clit and grinds as hard as she can.

Tension gathers in her stomach, in her cunt, a gathering storm that breaks. She comes in giant, shaking waves, both hands steadying herself against the metal floors. He pushes into her once more, fingers digging into her hips, and shudders behind her. 

Bellamy’s forehead drops against the back of her shoulder, and his breath is loud against her ear. “I’ll read alone more often if this is what I get for it.”

Clarke grins and thrusts back against him to tease. “We’d be fucking all of the time if that was the case.”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

They button up quickly and quietly. Bellamy dims the lamp all the way, fills out the library register (”enough rule breaking for one night”), and locks the gate. Clarke’s hand intertwines with his as they walk away from the Hangar and to their room. 

Bellamy pushes open the door. It’s a small space with only a double bed, a desk, and a chair, but it’s _theirs_. As soon as the door closes, Clarke grabs a towel and shucks her pants to clean up. 

“What are you planning on doing the rest of the night?” She asks when she’s done.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Bellamy laying on his stomach on the bed, book propped open in front of him. “Some light reading, I guess.”


End file.
